


Behind By a Bullet

by Shatterpath



Series: Sassy, Snarky, and Sexy [3]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst and Humor, BAMF Peggy Carter, Banter, Bathing/Washing, Blood and Injury, Canon Related, Canon-Typical Violence, Comrades in Arms, Erotica, F/M, Feels, Female Protagonist, Happy Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Morse Code, Peggy's scar, Peggy's tornado story, Peggy-centric, Trust, World War II, badass epic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-05
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-03-29 02:34:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 13,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3878887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shatterpath/pseuds/Shatterpath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a sudden burst of violence, Peggy's path changes forever. In more ways than she will understand for some time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ayrki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ayrki/gifts).



> Welcome to the sequel to 'Lovers in War'! *tosses confetti* This book has become much more Peggy-centric (oh DARN, I know) and how the others orbit around her. There is some historical info here, particularly regarding the London Deep Underground, Bletchley Park, and references to rationing. There are several direct references to events spoken of in 'Agent Carter' to look for, both obvious and subtler. 
> 
> Also, I feel the need to mention once again what a delight Peggy and Steve are to write dialog for. The sass and humor are an endless thrill!
> 
> As usual, a MASSIVE thank you to Tristian Makhai for the endless support and IM banter that gives me such amazing ideas and momentum. You are one in a billion!

The raid went sideways quickly and Steve dug deep and fought like a man possessed, as they all did. Ducking away from the hail of bullets and the strange blue energy weapons they all hated so much, Dugan slid down a snowy embankment, certain he'd seen one of his go down. To his shock, it was Peggy, face down in the snow, shaking her head as though trying to shoo off a cloud of flies. It was all too easy to forget she really wasn't invulnerable because she came across that way so often.

"You ok?"

For a moment she didn't really react to his question, her gaze unfocused enough that he suspected the blood oozing from the gash under her eye might not be the only injury she was fighting. Then she managed to roll onto her side, but not hide the cringe of pain that ran from eyes to toes.

"Just winged. It'll take more than a hit in the shoulder to ground this bird."

"Bullshit," he told her cheerfully and rattled a few rounds off in the direction of the chaos for good measure. "But there's not a hell of a lot anyone can do at the moment. Shoulder?"

"Yes, dammit," she gritted out between clenched teeth and made small, hurt animal sounds as he used both of their scarves and her belt to strap her right arm tight to her body. "Bloody hell."

It was the only words she uttered, hoarse and raw in the pain she so desperately wanted to hide. Nearby, the battle raged and as quickly as he could, Dugan grabbed a handful of her heavy wool jacket and bodily got her to shaky feet. Dugan gave the Thompson a hard smack to clear the snow off it and slung the strap to the other side of her neck.

"Good thing you're not half bad with that thing left handed. You stick to my left, you got it? And stick to me, I'm not foolin' around. You fall, I carry you and then we're both in danger."

"Fuck you, Timothy, I'm fine."

That bull stubbornness and half-crazy adrenaline in her eyes might keep her going long enough for them to all get out of the fight alive. He was counting on it.


	2. Chapter 2

"Are we done here?"

Irritated and tired, the Commandos rumbled affirmatively at Steve, more than ready to get the hell off this bitter, unforgiving mountain and back to the relative safety and warmth of camp a few miles away. It was going to be a long walk no matter how they looked at it. No vehicle could handle the terrain.

The group of them had hiked and slipped their way to their starting point, clustering around the fallen bodies of Hydra's seeming endless procession of brainless minions and the smears of blood in the disheveled snow.

"We're missin' Dum Dum and Carter," Bucky announced as he stumbled in last and pointed back the way they'd come earlier in the day. "But those big clodhopper's of his are leadin' back to camp. But just his, heavier than normal, see?"

The sensation of alarm down Steve's spine was far icier than the weather. The bloody scuffs in the snow near his feet would be about the size of Peggy's prone body.

"We should… should head back," he said weakly, desperately trying not to panic.

"Go on," Falsworth encouraged gently and several of the guys nodded. "We'll stick together and meet you there."

Fueled with worry for his lover and the supersoldier serum in his cells, Steve raced through the snowy terrain, breath steaming like a train engine. Smoke curled up quietly from camp and the surroundings seemed quiet and calm, but that barely registered. Only his enhanced reflexes let him grab the barrel of the SMG an annoyed Dugan whipped around with and the two men quickly rolled their eyes at one another.

"Christ, Cap, don't sneak up like that. Seems Carter wanted her wings clipped."

"Really, Tim'thy, must I tell you to fuck off again?"

In that drunken-sounding sass, Steve was instantly reassured that his lover was at least mostly in one piece and he paused to get a grip on his frazzled emotions before skirting the small fire and ducking under the lean-to where Peggy lay sloppily on her front side.

"I already gave her a small dose of that green shit Stark sent us," Dugan explained as he sat on his collapsible stool, the aluminum and canvas groaning in protest. "So she oughta be mostly all growls and no teeth about now, which in an interesting change."

"Grrr," Peggy sassed weakly, chilled and hurting but trying to keep a stiff upper lip. Then Steve's warm hand trailed through her hair and over her cheek, the other touching the bandages pressed to her shoulder in the gap Dugan had carefully sliced through all the layers of her heavy winter clothes. The weak cry of pain wouldn't stay behind her teeth, nor the hot prickle of tears.

That small sound stabbed through Steve as surely as any bayonet or bullet. Carefully schooling his voice to cover some of the shake, Steve tried to inject a note of teasing in his words. "Am I going to need to get you your own shield, dollface?"

The rude, wordless noise reassured him and brought up a tremulous smile. Dugan stayed quiet as Steve leaned over to press his nose and mouth to her dark hair, breathing hard as though fighting tears.

"So what do I say in a situation like this?" Steve mused quietly as he half sat up and looked at the older man with the saddest, bluest puppy eyes Dugan had ever seen. Were those even legal? But it was Peggy that got in the last word, despite being barely conscious and slurred to somewhere between incoherent and Cockney dockworker.

"Ouch."

Dugan couldn't stop the burst of incredulous laughter.


	3. Chapter 3

Turned out the bullets lodged in Peggy's shoulder weren't the only casualty, though Junior's slip and roll down the hill that resulted in a sprained ankle and several broken fingers hardly compared. He complained far more than she did though, hardly a peep out of the drowsy Peggy where she lounged across Steve's torso in the back of the jeep as they bumped across the ruined countryside, his great strength cushioning the endless shocks. The occasional sounds of pain were lost in the racket of travel, but the others crammed in with them could tell by Steve's telling flinches. 

Rather that bunk down for the night, the Commandos swapped around driving duty, pushing to get their comrades to a proper field hospital. Despite Howard's drug cocktail, it was clear the Peggy was really hurting and infection was a constant danger, no matter what the wound. Two days later, they rolled into a semi-permanent camp, where medicos immediately moved to take Junior and Peggy in hand… but Steve couldn't bring himself to let go.

Bucky glared the harried medico off before the guy could get wound up before crouching on the passenger seat to look seriously at his best friend. "Gotta let her go, man. If ya don't she's gonna wake up and kick your ass back to Brooklyn. We'll all stick close, yeah?"

Only Bucky's outstretched hands persuaded Steve to let Peggy go, gently rolling her limp body onto a field stretcher to be whisked away.

It was Bucky again that carefully shifted the unmovable object that was his best friend now into getting off to shower up or he'd cause chaos among the medical staff. The stars and stripes vanished to be washed and repaired, but Steve was relieved to get into his regular army uniform for a change. Though he still rigged a quick strap for the shield, hating being without it. Dugan was standing vigil with Bucky at the hospital tent, utterly ignoring the damp cold, body immovable.

"She's in surgery now."

There wasn't much to say as the three of them stood there in the drizzle of the second week of March and worried. Eventually Bucky elected to stay put so Dugan could clean up and pinned Steve with a serious look. "Ya gotta tell Phillips about this. She's goin' back to London and we all know it."

It was harsh and Bucky knew it, Steve's face a riot of conflicted emotions, his weight shifting on his feet and fists clenching and unclenching. The big bull was spoiling for a fight, for something to pummel and subdue with all the rage and love burning him up. For a long, heavy moment, the two men faced off, both of them so changed by the war around them. The changes wrought by science to Steve and the tortures of which Bucky would never speak of, but the sounds he made sometimes in his sleep were heart wrenching. 

"Go on, Steve, I got this. Promise."

Defeated by circumstances he couldn't beat, Steve deflated, his expression agonized by the knowledge that he would indeed have to send Peggy away. Nodding, he hugged Bucky hard for a brief moment and strode away, shoulders hunched in a way he had never done as a small man. Somehow it was all the more heartbreaking to witness on his big frame.


	4. Chapter 4

Astonishingly, a doctor stepped out even before the chilly damp really set in and Bucky's attention was instantly on the man.

"Captain Rogers?"

"He's contacting HQ and left me."

"Oh. Uh, Miss Carter is a stubborn…"

"It's Agent. Special Agent Carter, SSR."

The doctor was nonplussed at Bucky's matter-of-fact interruption.

"Umm, very well, Agent Carter then. She's already shaking off the anesthesia." 

That's all Bucky had to hear, shoving his way into the surgery tent, following the drunken-sounding British voice, ignoring the outraged doctor and the frightened nurses who were clearly not getting anywhere near the agitated Carter. Without hesitation, Bucky pressed his hand to her dark hair, just hard enough to constrict her uncoordinated movements. "Knock it off, Carter. Looks like the lead is outta that shoulder, but they need to sew you up. Lie still."

Astonishingly, it worked and Peggy stilled, her breathing evening out. Keeping his calm for his teammate, Bucky nodded to the ragged surgery site. 

"Give her a topical and I think we'll be good."

It was one of the shaken-looking nurses that stepped up after a moment, skirting a tray of surgical supplies Bucky hadn't even noticed scattered everywhere.

"We didn’t expect her come around so suddenly. Or to react like some of the fellas that come in here."

Thinking that he would have reacted the same way, Bucky nodded and stood silent sentinel for his teammate and best friend's girl. The nurse left a couple injection marks around the bloody holes and smiled tentatively at Bucky, who found himself surprisingly ignoring the gesture. He hadn't been himself since being taken captive and all the hazy shit done to him strapped to that table. Clamping down on the fractured memories with long practice, he kept calm so that his touch on Peggy's head wouldn't transmit his constant stress.

Swabs of iodine cleaned up the surgery site, making Peggy groan something rude and Bucky to huff a humorless laugh while the nurse looked ready to spring away again. Finally though, the tiny black stitches stood out against Peggy's pale, reddened shoulder and the nurse whisked away the surgical sheet to begin the process of gauze and tape.

"Thank you, Barnes," Peggy murmured.

"Welcome. You almost got stuck with Dugan."

"Heaven forbid."

"Yeah, he needed to be hosed down yet."

With a satisfied nod, the nurse leaned away from her work and addressed the two soldiers. "You'll need to keep any eye out for infection and get those stitches out in a couple weeks. There will be further instructions given to your CO."

"Thank you. Is there a blanket or something to cover up with so I can sit up?"

Objections died on the nurse's lips as Bucky tossed his own jacket over Peggy's bared torso. He held the provided sheet while a shaking Peggy struggled, only reluctantly accepting the other woman's help.

"You shouldn't be moving," the doctor yelped as he suddenly returned to find his nurse tucking a sheet around Peggy's front and the sling holding the damaged arm before buttoning up the jacket Bucky had loaned. The right sleeve hung empty.

"Sod off," Peggy growled and missed the nurse's smirk. "There are men who need beds far more than I."

"Stubborn," Steve commented with surprising calm as he suddenly stepped in and the place went quiet. If there was a soul in doubt who the handsome man in the khakis was, the shield was a dead giveaway. Peggy would never admit it, but she was relieved he was there, calmly dealing with the doctor, giving her a moment to catch her breath and get her shaking legs steadied before standing. By the way Bucky flinched at her grip on his arm, she was glad it was him and not the poor nurse.

It took a supreme act of sheer will to keep his attention on what the doctor was saying, for Steve was achingly aware of every flinch of Peggy's body close by. Finally the guy seemed to be running out of steam and Peggy had straightened up, willfully, endlessly strong and stubborn. God he wanted to kiss her so bad, sweep her up and cart her off somewhere safe. Not gonna happen though and he knew it.

"Thank you, doctor. Sergeant Barnes and I will take it from here. Agent Carter?"


	5. Chapter 5

Shaken but unbroken, Peggy walked out of the surgery tent under her own damn power-- thank you very much-- but not much further. Shivering in the chill, Bucky chuckled and tucked his hands into the bundle of clothing they had cut off of her for the surgery while Steve carefully scooped her up to be cradled to his chest.

"Come on, you two. Let's get you settled in for some R&R."

It was a good, solid camp that had taken over most of the tattered remains of some itty bitty town in the southern Germany hinterlands. There were even a few standing buildings, repaired by the Allied forces enough to be useful as barracks and kitchens and the like.

"Captain Rogers!" A woman's voice startled the trio of Howling Commandos, a figure melting from the dimness revealed to be the nurse from the surgery tent. "Sorry, sir, but the doctor shouldn't have just let this go like that. I think Agent Carter unnerved the whole gang of us."

It was Bucky that snorted and muttered, "she does that, yeah."

"It's clear all of you have been out on the field and there's no reason she shouldn't get a good scrub up, same as you. There's women's baths close by and I can take care of that and keep that wound site dry and clean as well."

"You're not too busy?"

"No sir. It's not often we get in women wounded and she shouldn't be overlooked."

"No, no she shouldn't."

With a quick exchange, Bucky peeled off to let the guys know what was going on and get out of the cold, while Steve carried his precious burden after the helpful nurse. A single bulb flared to life to show a makeshift but relatively nice bathing space that included a large galvanized tub probably meant for watering livestock at some point in its life.

"Give me a moment to get set up," the nurse was saying as she set some boards across the width of the tub, "and you can leave her with me for a bit."

"No ma'am, I really can't."

There was an odd tone in his voice and the nurse paused to take a long look at the big man cradling his female companion. Oh. Oh, right. Smirking in understanding, she stepped over and offered a helpful set of hands. "If you're going to be staying, lover boy, you'll want to strip to your undershirt or get your uniform wet. And I'm Sharron, by the way, Sharron Baker, pleased to meet you."

"Steve Rogers, but you know that already."

He sounded so wearily resigned to it that Sharron couldn't chuckle at the understatement. Even in plain ol Army greens, he was pretty recognizable.


	6. Chapter 6

"Does London here have a first name?"

"Peggy," the Englishwoman slurred lazily. "Since we're all being friendly here."

Steve chuckled and crouched down to rest her weight across his thighs, gesturing for Sharron to kneel and support Peggy's head and upper shoulders while he leaned back to start stripping. The nurse couldn't help but admire the effortless physicality of the crouch that would have anyone else with burning muscles and sore toes, but Steve didn't even notice.

"You ready to get cleaned up?" He warmly teased his lover who watched him with lazy, drug-addled eyes. "We've even got an actual medical helper. You're moving up in the world, Trouble."

"Does this mean I have to behave?"

Steve's sputter of laughter was quietly echoed by the stranger with them, and the big soldier hunched up to kiss his girl gently. "Yes, you have to behave yourself. But I promise to keep you warm when we're done."

"You do that anyway."

"What is it you always call me? Cheeky?"

"I've called you worse."

"That you have."

Once down to the clean white undershirt that clung to him like a second skin, Steve immediately loosened Peggy's belt and pants to carefully strip her, taking over cradling her head so that Sharron could remove boots and socks. When Steve shifted their combined weight, Peggy moaned brokenly at the jostling and he froze.

"Sorry, Babe. Catch your breath for a sec. That's it."

Gently drawing away the sheet tucked around her upper torso, Steve ignored the welcome sight of Peggy's chest and kept watching her hooded eyes.

"Not even a passing ogle, darling?"

There was no fighting his small huff of amusement at her endless sass. "Let's get you cleaned up and some sleep in you and I'll be honored to ogle."

With some careful maneuvering, Steve duck-walked over to the tub to set Peggy's rear onto the wood slats and shift his hands to cradle her skull and upper body in big hands to keep pressure off of the raw wounds.

"It does rather take the romance out of it."

"It does, but I don't mind if you don't."

"Well, I can't say I'm exactly thrilled with being shot, but if it had to happen, it could have gone worse."

"Much worse."

If Sharron had harbored any doubts about the odd couple, the harsh catch in Steve's breath destroyed them. 

"Oh, darling, I'll be all right. Thank you for being here."

"Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else."


	7. Chapter 7

Warm water from a makeshift heater the women of camp coveted splashed into a bucket and Sharron moved to begin working the wet into Peggy's dark hair, doing her best to be unobtrusive to the shaken couple. They remained quiet while she rubbed in some dollops of shampoo, working her way up to Steve's cradling hand and trading off tasks with him, the two of them massaging cleanliness into Peggy's scalp.

"You're doin' great."

"There's no need to coddle, Rogers."

Steve sighed and Sharron chuckled. "I see she keeps you on your toes, Captain."

"That she does. Don't tell her, but I like it."

"In the room, thank you very much."

A towel around the wound site kept it dry while Peggy was rinsed, mumbling sassy remarks that made Steve chuckle and tease her, cupping a hand under her neck, thumb at the base of her skull and fingertips reaching down towards her shoulders so he could wander a soapy washcloth over her chest and belly. 

"You like that?"

"Tease."

While they weren't being overtly erotic, there was no mistaking the adoration and familiarity in Steve's touch, in the shivers of reaction in Peggy, the loose ease of her body. Holding his lover's eyes, Steve scrubbed through the dark thatch between Peggy's thighs and down to knees before Sharron used a cup and the bucket of warm water to rinse.

"I s'pose this coddling business isn't so bad after all."

The coddling would have been preferable, Peggy muttering a vile blue streak almost soundlessly during the whole agonizing procedure of rolling her over to get to her back. In the end, the bloodied shoulder ended up pressed to Steve's chest where she lay across his forearms, since that side had been scrubbed back in surgery. Breathing harsh and shallow, Peggy rested her forehead on a lumped rag atop the boards and ignored the stranger's touch on her skin.

"Hurts," she growled as Steve nuzzled the back of her head, stressed with worry and avoiding staring at the twin bloody marks in the gauze.

"You're fighting the drugs as hard as you fight everything else."

"Can't help it."

"I know."

"Is it still a sharp pain, Agent? Not a dull, hot one?"

The use of her beloved title brought Peggy's fuzzy mind around and she tried to focus. "It's sharp, bruised and it burns. If there is infection, it's still minor, I think."

"Good. Don't be brave if you suspect it might go downhill. There are too many tendons and nerves and vessels in there to fool around. You want to keep the full use of that arm? You behave."

"Yes ma'am," Peggy groused, but there was a hint of smile too.

Finishing up the bathing went quickly enough and rather than fight with clothing, Steve and Sharron simply bundled Peggy up in a couple sheets and twice that many blankets filched from stores. Steve dressed again as Peggy swallowed a couple of aspirin laced with codeine while Steve pocketed a few more. Then the older woman helped Steve arrange Peggy against his strong body, draping Bucky's jacket over her wet hair and piling the dirties onto her belly.

"Thank you, really. I mean it," Steve told the smiling nurse earnestly and she patted them both.

"Son, this war is a horror on everyone involved. It doesn't matter what country, color, creed or even which side of the line that we're on. I'll take any little scrap of sunshine I can get, and you two have provided that. Get some sleep now, both of you, hear?"


	8. Chapter 8

The Commandos were still awake and gave a subdued cheer when Steve stepped into the big tent given them while in town. 

"Jeez, good to see ya, Cap. She still awake?"

"Hard to tell. The drugs might be making her so limp."

As there was no discernible reply from the body-shaped lump Steve carried so carefully, Dugan left off his teasing and led the younger man back into the cold and over to the familiar shape of Bessie close by.

"We cleaned her out for ya," Dugan was explaining as he shoved an oil drum and a crate into place so that Steve could use them like a staircase, and yanked open the door to reveal the gleam of a small, electric bulb glowing within. "We found a little heater and camp let us tap into the electricity too, so it's nice and toasty in there. We'll see you in the morning."

"Thanks. And thank the guys too."

"With pleasure, Cap. G'nite."

The Bedford smelled fresher, all the soiled bedding and clothing taken away-- hopefully for cleaning-- and fresh bedding tossed loosely over the cot. Kneeling once more, Steve set down Peggy's lower body, startling when she jerked awake, hissing with danger and pain as every muscle went taut in menace.

"Easy, easy, Dollface, it's just me. You're fine."

Dark, glassy eyes blinked and the cornered animal look faded. "Steve."

"Yep, just me. Hang on a sec and let me get you situated, ok?"

There was a growl and hiss as he settled her against their makeshift pillows, her weight pressing into the bullet wounds, but slowly, so slowly, she began to unwind. Satisfied for a moment, Steve turned down the little heater and swapped out the electric light for his flashlight before stripping to his underwear and carefully slipping into the bedding beside his beloved. When he eased up to her left side, Peggy tilted her head at him with a relieved sigh, finally ready let her guard down enough to be watched over. It was a sign of trust that humbled Steve, that she would embrace the vulnerability of injury, of lack of mobility, of being naked beneath the bedding and let him protect her for just a little while.

"Thank you, darling."

"My pleasure. You're no hardship, Peggy. I love you."

"I love you too, sweet man."

Drowsy and soft, Peggy was slipping away to healthy sleep, Steve's over-warm body against her undamaged side, the space around them with the chill knocked out of it, the night as quiet as could be expected with the song of war distant and muffled. Gentle and adoring, Steve stroked over the blankets and damp hair, nuzzling Peggy and drinking up her feel and scent.

For all too soon, it would be a very long time before he could indulge again and he would take every moment he could.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel I should leave warning that there are some disturbing wartime images of wounded soldiers suffering traumas. While I did not go for deliberately graphic, some of the mental imagery is disturbing. This chapter was surprisingly hard to write.
> 
> Also, beware my cheerful hacking apart canon to suit my own evil ends!
> 
> And I love writing for Chester Phillips who has NO FUCKS TO GIVE.

The goodbye was hazy, heartfelt and left Peggy fighting tears.

As it had from the very first night amidst the Howling Commandos, Bessie the Bedford had sheltered the lovers in their saying goodbye, in getting Peggy painstakingly dressed, in lingering kisses farewell before they had to step into the sunlight and be Captain Rogers and Agent Carter once more. Ironically, the others had barely restrained their affections, touching her unwounded arm, hugging gently, Dugan even kissing her lingeringly between the eyes.

"We're really gonna miss you, kid."

She was really going to miss them too, fighting to force the words out coherently, still struggling even as they pressed her into the hospital plane and tossed her battered trunk into the underbelly. Then she was alone, strapped into a seat amidst the other wounded and their own awful agonies. 

It was a hellish trip of wracking pain from the altitude changes, the rattling of the converted cargo plane, the cries of the wounded, the stink of pain and fear. As she made no sound the entire flight, the attendants ignored her, but the jarring landing tested even Peggy's enormous strength of will as agony ate away at her entire upper body like acid.

Thankfully, she was too dizzy and slow to do more than flinch at the quick flash of needle once one of the nurses noticed she was nearly hyperventilating with stress and pain and possibly delayed shock. It was nothing they hadn't seen before, over and over again. The morphine cocktail swamped over everything, left the indomitable Peggy Carter limp and unwillingly docile, another broken body to be laid out on a stretcher to be stacked into a transport and moved like slabs of mutton. Alone and unnerved and hopelessly confused, it was the first time in a very long time that she'd felt fear and vulnerability so keenly. But she would also not let it control her, to leave her shattered like too many of the soldiers around her.

At least three voices fell silent just on the drive to London and none of the conscious could bear to look at the bags already stacked like cordwood on the floor of the lorry containing those who never made it across the Channel. 

It was hours before the overworked, overstressed, overcrowded hospital worked their way through the wounded, taking the worst first. Eventually Peggy found herself gritting her teeth as she hunched over her own knees after stripping her shirt off so that the trio of medicos could examine the bullet holes livid on her skin. There was a rough, painful scrub of the wounds, more needles, penicillin, painkillers and words lost to her in the haze, then fresh, dry gauze before she was left in a room lined in cots on the floor, the less wounded propped up against the walls to await being sorted and shipped out.

That was how Phillips found her more than a day later.

Worried to the point where even his gruff temper was rattlesnake-quick, he forced calm and crouched down despite his aching knees.

"Carter," he said quietly, businesslike and watched her attention slowly focus. "I was expecting you back at HQ."

Licking dry lips, she nodded slowly. "Sorry, sir. Got lost in the shuffle."

Looking around the room crowded with wounded, shell-shocked soldiers like a room of broken toys, Phillips fought down the need to save them all. No one knew better than he did that you had to pick your battles.

"Dammit, Loraine, give me a hand." 

His assistant looked like she wanted to run screaming from the building, frankly. This was the closest she'd ever been to the real horrors of the war, the broken bodies and hollow eyes, the stink, the low hum of despair that lodged in the soul. But she minced her way over like a jumpy cat and helped him grab Carter's waistband and haul her to legs left shaky with shock, drugs and disuse. Phillips kept a hand locked in the fabric as the three left the dimly lit room and the miasma of hopelessness behind. The sunlight through the windows, then in the open air outside, roused Peggy and she blinked into something more like the indomitable woman Phillips knew.

"I think… I think the pain will be an improvement to that experience," she said flatly and Phillips nodded in sympathy of his own horrific war memories.

"Yeah, I don't blame you there. Come on, let's get you home."


	10. Chapter 10

It was a few more days in the relative peace and quiet of the shelters beneath London before Peggy started really coming around. While Phillips and a couple visiting nurses had managed to get some liquids and gruel in her, it wasn't much and it was her stomach as much as anything that drove her off her cot and stumbling in search of something less numbing than lazing about. She even managed to shrug her uniform jacket over her hale arm and drape it over her damaged shoulder, but there was nothing to be done about the second hand men's trousers hanging off her frame or the double layer of military socks that was the only things on her feet. Once again, she was needing a serious scrub up and wasn't that going to be unpleasant as she couldn't even use the loo on her own yet. Grunting out her pain and frustration Peggy leaned on her battered trunk to help her to unsteady feet.

That her trunk had made it to the tunnels before she did was an irony not lost on her. 

Nose and body memory led her through the now strangely unfamiliar dimness of the underground shelters to the kitchens. She must have looked a fright, because Betsy and Martha didn't even recognize her until she spoke. Though they immediately set to clucking over her and carrying on, providing a savory chicken stew full of dumplings and canned vegetables. It was one of the most delicious things Peggy had ever eaten, raw hunger the best spice. The cheerful red apple was welcome as well, the cooks chattering at her a blissfully welcome familiarity. It was an awkward affair, as her right arm was still completely out of commission, but the shakes were gone, Peggy having stopped taking the painkillers two days ago, though she was being good about the vile little white pills to help keep infection down.

"We missed you around here, honey."

Peggy wished she could return Betsy's sentiment, but she felt cut adrift, for these familiar tunnels, this city of her birth, had become little more than a desperate haven. Home was far away now, in the laughter of those men, the touch of her lover, the roar of war in the air.

"Thank you, Betsy. I've missed the cooking."

At least that much was true.

Despite being wrung out and only marginally decent, much less in uniform, Peggy chafed at not being involved and found herself toddling off to the war room to eavesdrop. The bustle of activity was heartening, warming her with the industrious duty of it all.

"Actually, Captain, I think I have something you can help with," Phillips' voice suddenly carried over the babble of noise and Peggy forced herself to not tense up, to straighten to attention, to feel self-conscious about her appearance. It wasn't a simple task, as the tall, implacable fellow at the American's side looked torn about how to react to her disheveled appearance. "Agent Carter, this is Captain Horace Haversham of the GC&CS. Turns out they've got a thorny problem and seein' as you're relatively bright-eyed and bushytailed again, maybe you could give them a hand." 

"Thank you for the vote of confidence to my physical well-being, Colonel," Peggy replied dryly and the older man huffed in equally dry amusement. "But I fear the nursing staff would have my head over a bumpy ride out to Milton Keynes. But if the information is transportable, I would be honored to take a look at it."

"Well, err, thank you, Agent Carter, I shall pass the offer on to the Commander. And thank you for your time Colonel Phillips."

Marching out with rigid British distaste, Captain Haversham quickly vanished and Phillips stood beside Peggy as they watched him go.

"He's in for a shock when he realizes you're that Carter, isn't he?"

"Oh yes, quite."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From Wikipedia: Bletchley Park, in Milton Keynes, Buckinghamshire, was the central site of the United Kingdom's Government Code and Cypher School (GC&CS), which during the Second World War regularly penetrated the secret communications of the Axis Powers – most importantly the German Enigma and Lorenz ciphers. The official historian of World War II British Intelligence has written that the "Ultra" intelligence produced at Bletchley shortened the war by two to four years, and that without it the outcome of the war would have been uncertain.[1] The site is now an educational and historical attraction memorialising and celebrating those accomplishments.


	11. Chapter 11

While there was not a whole hell of a lot that Peggy could do with her impaired mobility, the SSR maneuvered around her. There was nothing wrong with her mind and a typewriter on hand solved the worst of the communication problems. At least that dratted Private Loraine turned out to be a competent assistant, even if Peggy couldn't help but feel quite… uncharitable to the woman. Who could blame her? The memory of her snogging Steve had her hackles a-bristle and Loraine on eggshells, despite Peggy's being about as dangerous as a wet rag in those early days of recovery. Still she provided several pillows to save wear and tear on Peggy's shoulders and neck, brought her weak coffee-- nurse's and Phillip's orders-- and kept her fed.

There were worse ways to earn some semblance of forgiveness Peggy supposed. Though the blonde best not so much as look at Steve lingeringly if he ever walked into these tunnels again. Not if, when, Peggy reminded herself firmly and threw herself into paperwork and ciphers with a zeal that left her aching before the nurse of the day ordered her off to bed to sleep fitfully. When at last the visiting nurse was neither a skittish pup nor a bitter, heavy handed veteran, Peggy solicitously asked for some help with a bath. The water burned on the scabs while the woman scrubbed Peggy's dark tresses before moving to her back and a few key spots the left arm couldn't reach. Despite the humiliation of it all, Peggy was much happier with a bath, though being treated like a slab of meat was getting old. Oh how she missed Steve and his loving touch…

As though conjured up by her thoughts, a radio transmission came in from the field, Steve's 'Captain America' voice bringing a hush to the SSR war room as everyone shamelessly eavesdropped on his report about Hydra movements, targets destroyed and so forth. It was so strange to hear the businesslike formality that came with the red white and blue persona, not the sassy, casual warmth of her lover. Then again wasn't she the same? The Agent Carter armor slipped a bit when suddenly Steve's tone changed, a thread of warmth and concern creeping in.

"How is Agent Carter doing?"

All eyes fell to her and as much as she adored the man, she might have shot at him again in that moment, had he not been well out of reach.

"Healing up as we speak, Captain Rogers. Thank you for putting me on the spot."

His chuckle was warm even through the crackle of static, making Peggy fight a shiver and parts of her anatomy to react involuntarily. Thank everything holy she'd managed to get into her uniform jacket after the bath…

"Peggy! Good to hear your voice, gimpy! When you gonna quit bein' a faker and get back out here?"

Sure enough, it was Dugan boisterous irreverence, the babble of the rest of the boys a racket behind his voice and her smile deepened into a chuckle. "Well, Timothy, I felt it only fair to leave so that you could have a fair shake at besting my accuracy with an SMG. It would hardly be fair to the rest of the Commandos should you keep falling further and further behind."

She took great pleasure in his laughing too hard to reply and traded wry looks with Phillips as he took back the mic to get back to business. Though she distinctly heard Steve something about 'not being able to track his way out of a paper bag.'

Peggy wasn't the only one to laugh at that.


	12. Chapter 12

Surprisingly, it was nearly a week and a half before Horace Haversham reappeared and his expression was every inch as priceless as Peggy had hoped.

"You're M. Carter." He said with no preamble and the smirk around the corners of her mouth was positively arrogant.

"I am."

"You're much… younger than I had expected."

"Very diplomatic, captain," she drawled, not bothering to hide the thrum of sarcasm nor her smirk over his discomfort. Which he tried gamely to cover by getting back to business.

"The commander was very much hoping that you were well enough to travel?"

"Indeed? Well then, give me a tick to see if one of the nurses is about to give these bullet wounds a once over and we shall find out."

There was no doubt in Peggy's mind that the closest Haversham had come to a bullet was hearing them whine through the skies overhead and possibly grouse hunting. 

A couple hours later, after being poked and prodded and proving that she was slowly getting use back of her hand as the swelling subsided, Peggy was tossing her things into her trunk in preparation to once again leave London. Though for less pleasant reasons this time to be sure. With the dire warnings of the nurse in her ears about overtaxing herself, Peggy followed Haversham-- now hauling her trunk-- off to see Phillips. 

"No disappearing for two months this time, Carter."

Perhaps an outsider would have heard only irritation and censure, but Peggy knew him better than that and echoed his faint smile.

"No sir."

"And you," Phillips glared balefully at Haversham, who seemed faintly alarmed at the American's sudden intensity. "You take good care of my personnel. Now, get the hell out."

In a flurry of activity, Phillips was off, hollering for activity and information his staff was all too happy to scuttle about for. Peggy grinned fondly and gestured for Haversham to fall in beside her. "I do believe I'll miss the gruff old bastard. Shall we, Captain Haversham?"

He was clearly at a loss for words and merely fell into step with her.


	13. Chapter 13

Rolling into the extensive grounds of Bletchley Park was fraught with familiarity mixed with the nerve-wracking blackness of the English countryside, crouched in constant fear of attack from the skies. Peggy was put up to sleep and set to work with the staff on the next shift change. There were a few familiar faces amidst the staff, but it only served to remind her how time kept moving forward and nothing stayed the same.

Frankly, she was happy to head back to London after five grueling days, knowing she was in for an ass-whupping from Phillips and nurses both for overtaxing her not-inconsiderate mental resources as well as her healing body.

The lift being out of commission seemed a perfect ending to the drama and she sighed and took a stronger grip on her trunk in order to head underground. Putting things off would get her nowhere and the light was fading fast.

No one wanted to be outside beneath London's deadly skies after dark.

Thankfully, a smiling American with some sort of regional accent she didn't recognize immediately, kindly took up her trunk and walked with her to the war room. He touched his forehead-- he was polite and had removed his cover when they'd stepped inside the entrance above-- in salute to her and the uniform and returned her thankful grin with a flirtatious one of his own before vanishing into the crowd. The regard wasn't unwelcome exactly, but did serve to remind her of the attentions she'd rather be getting from her own American.

As Phillips wasn't there to rain fire and brimstone… yet, Peggy picked up a familiar vibe and decided a side trip was in order. Sure enough, Howard was in his labs, hands on his hips in an uncharacteristically severe pose. For a moment, she swore she saw something haunted and tortured on her old friend's familiar visage, a sobriety that had never been there before. Then he spotted her and lit up with unfeigned delight.

"Peggy!"

Thankfully he spotted the sling before the open-armed gesture turned into a thumping hug and his face fell comically.

"What happened?"

Sighing with overdramatic tolerance-- for Howard was always a good audience for theatrics-- Peggy spread open her sound left arm and waved hello with the healing right, hand still cradled at her belly. Howard was quick to accept the invitation, carefully cradling her smaller frame to his in a long hug.

"Apparently Hydra took affront with my assisting the Howling Commandos. Oh, Howard, I'm all right, just a couple of small-caliber rounds to the shoulder. Stiff upper lip and all that." Then she realized that he was trembling, just that little bit, something she never would have noticed were they not pressed so close. "What is it?"

Breathing deep, he leaned away, putting on a game face, but his eyes were over-bright. "Just… burned out, y'know? I'm gonna head back to New York for some peace and quiet if I can get it."

"Europe not your 'thing' any longer?"

That exhaustion and pain drifted over his features again and he pulled her close for another hug. "It's in good hands with you and Steve. You promise to tell me if he needs anything, okay? I'll get it to you somehow, even if I gotta fly across the Atlantic myself."

A sudden, distant bellow of Peggy's last name in Phillips' voice made the friends grin at each other wryly in mutual sympathy. 

"Sounds like 'dad' is lookin' for you."

"Indeed. Fly safe, Howard, and take care of yourself."

"You too, Pegs. Oh, and Pegs? You look great, luminous even. What's your secret?"

"Howard, it will not be April Fool's Day for another nearly thirty-six hours. Do rope it in, won't you?"

Their smiles were affectionate as they parted.


	14. Chapter 14

With continued healing came a return to duty and what passed for normalcy in the midst of constant warfare. With healing came a return to her place at the war board where she could reign over the map of war instead of being out there herself. But as things heated up with Hydra and the Nazis, Peggy understood that she was of as much value as overseer as a soldier in the mud with a gun in her hand. That didn't mean that she had to like it.

It was rewarding in its own way, just as it was confining in others. A familiar conundrum for Peggy as she dealt daily with the full range of reactions from awed respect to utter misogyny. Thankfully sheer competence and a well-earned reputation for violence got her through the worst of it. The story of the four rounds fired at Captain America to test out his shield in Howard's labs still made the rounds regularly and the new lambs in the tunnels would stare at her in awe.

It was hugely entertaining.

Loraine continued to be quietly helpful, for which was Peggy was inarticulately grateful and-- just as quietly-- ensured that she was the minimum of trouble to the blonde assistant. Let the boys be slobs and forget to say a simple thank you every once in a while. Peggy had more class than that.

There was another week spent out at Bletchley Park split between a few new recruits and the continued game of cat and mouse between Axis and Ally. The long, grueling hours and the endless damp of April made the raw scars ache miserably, but Peggy was loathe to call uncle and merely kept her arm cradled in the sling. Sometimes though, she had to give in and take a few painkillers, a small compromise in the midst of large ones. Besides, the endless exhaustion pushed her into giving in to the scar's ache just so she could get some rest. Not something she was proud of, but healing took it out of a girl.

Then it was back to London once more, her eyes trailing up to the skies where the leashed fleets of barrage balloons looked so foolish and deadly above her home city. One hardly noticed them after a time, but she'd gotten into that ridiculous argument with that pompous lieutenant over the effectiveness of the countermeasure a few days ago.

Sometimes, Peggy wondered if she were simply contrary by nature.

After the muzzy damp outside, the tunnels were an almost welcome clamminess, calm and claustrophobic. The confined stink of the space settled her as did Betsy and Martha's usual delight in seeing her back in one piece. While she'd been recovering from the bullet wounds, the older women had taken to letting Peggy sleep in a corner of the dry food stores. Not only did it keep someone around to help her out should she need it, the space was pleasantly musty and warm, a great luxury. Peggy could also leave her things in one place with reasonable security. It wasn't quiet or at all private and made for an annoyingly long walk to the loo, but it was worth it.

The first thing she noticed is that Chester Phillips was up to something.

Oh, Peggy didn't know what, but the old goat was definitely far too pleased with himself over some shenanigans she wasn't certain that she was anticipating… or dreading. Private Loraine wasn't in on it, the confusion and the way she blanched at the stink-eye sent her way convinced Peggy of that. So Peggy was a good spy and sat tight to observe. A process that was nearly derailed when she was called into a screening of some footage the newshounds had shot. The SSR was adamant that all raw film had to be looked over before being whisked away to be turned into propaganda. It started out simply enough, Gabe, Dugan, Jacques and Jim standing about in flickering black and white while Peggy sat in the little makeshift theater beside Phillips. Then the camera panned to a jeep and Steve pointing to a map and gesturing, clearly making plans with Bucky, standing opposite him.

Just seeing her lover's handsome face gave Peggy a visceral thrill. Then the camera dropped to his gloved hand on the map and panned to his opposite hand where his compass rested… with that terrible copy of the simple headshot that rested in her duty jacket. Peggy was seized with a memory of teasing Steve-- the two of them naked and sweating-- that she would have to get him a better photo if he was going to be so insufferably sentimental. He'd only chuckled warmly and pulled her to him again. 

Peggy really hoped her expression didn't give her away as she and Phillips eyed one another without turning their heads.

On the screen, Steve glared at the cameraman and whisked the compass away before striding out of shot, expression conflicted.

She knew exactly how he felt.


	15. Chapter 15

The whispering and side-eyes had Peggy's teeth on edge and her temper frayed. This is exactly what she had dreaded, the scrutiny brought to her by just her picture carried by Captain bloody America. She couldn't hold it against him, for lord knew how just seeing his face brought her comfort, but she was going to knock someone on their arse. Groaning with frustration, she laid her head on the table and stretched out her arms along the surface. The dulled pain in her right shoulder actually felt good, felt like healing.

"I know that sound," Betsy suddenly chuckled as she bustled over to the table to wipe up and prepare for more diners. "Missin' your fella?"

Peggy knew the woman meant well, but the Americans were particularly terrible about privacy and she turned her head to glare weakly. "Eh tu, Betsy?"

Laughing, the older woman snapped her damp rag at the uninjured shoulder. "Don't pout, Carter, it's cute. Now sit up so I can clean."

"Cute."

The snort was pure disdain and made Betsy laugh harder before she sat opposite the disgruntled Englishwoman. "Oh honey, Captain America has a crush on you, what's so bad about that?"

"I don't even like Captain America! That idiotic false pretense smeared sloppily over a perfectly lovely man."

Now she really had Betsy's attention in addition to half the room from her raised voice. Instantly quieting, Peggy managed to fight cringing in embarrassment, rubbing the bridge of her nose.

"Wonderful, now everyone in this bloody tunnel will be staring at me as though I'm a bad Shakespearean femme fatale."

"Eh, fuck 'em," Betsy said breezily, earning a faintly surprised look. "Few would even care to look past the propaganda persona anyway. Of course that boy is sweet on you, who else would keep him in line?"

In her memories, Peggy could still remember the buck of the gun in her hand, the tinny ring of the bullets off of the vibranium, the stunned look on Steve's face as he warily peered over the edge, echoed closely by Howard.

_"Yes, I think it works."_

"I daresay I can't win every conflict with gunfire."

There was a ruckus of excitement outside the room and even as Peggy looked, a blissfully familiar voice carried out from a tall figure in the doorway. "No ma'am, but it can't hurt to try!"

It was impossible, but striding across the mess hall, was a wildly grinning Steve Rogers, the rest of the Howling Commandos crowding in behind him. Too stunned to believe it, Peggy only gawked as she drank in her lover's adoration, actually jumping with shock when his reaching hand touched her face.

"Steve," she breathed out, grabbing his dress jacket with her right hand and wrapping her left arm tight around his neck. With that effortless strength, he gathered her close, feet dangling, so that the Commandos could crowd them into a noisy group hug. All the jagged edges and poor sleep and stress just faded away in his touch, the murmur of her voice against her neck, the wall of noise from her comrades at arms.


	16. Chapter 16

"Missed you like air," Steve murmured in Peggy's ear, desperate to kiss her silly, but just as desperately restraining himself. "Sneak off and get a couple of days of clothes and whatever you need for some R&R. We've got half a floor of hotel a few blocks away."

"Oh Steve, my darling, how I've missed you too. This must be what has had the colonel looking so secretive and smug lately." The brush of her mouth on his skin made Steve's nerves prickle and he silently cursed this public venue, the need for discretion. Dammit, he just wanted to kiss his girl hello like any guy would!

But he wasn't just any guy and it rankled more sharply than it had in some time. But Peggy soothed him as she always did, an open-mouthed kiss soft on his neck for a long moment before she murmured, "though are you certain I'll need much in the way of clothing?"

Steve's groan wasn't feigned, a stifled sound as she leaned away from the embrace with an enticing grin to reach up and push his head to the side so she could rub at his neck.

"My apologies, Captain, I left my color on you."

Trying not to pink in embarrassment, Steve watched her walk away with a jaunty arrogance that he'd missed as much as her sass and smarts and lush body.

The boys entertained Betsy and a gathering crowd while Peggy slipped into the storeroom, leaving the door propped open to reassure herself with the sound of their riotous voices. Sure enough, Dugan was starting in on some embellished tale of a miracle shot that he swore ricocheted off a tree and two boulders to take out the sniper… With a start Peggy realized that she remembered the true tale behind his melodrama just as his boisterous voice hollered out, "are you kidding me? Only Barnes is that good a shot and he had enough mud in his stupid face to look like road kill. It was Peggy that saved my ass! What, you think we're this happy to see her just 'cause she's a pretty face? We got Junior for that."

The roar of amusement drowned out any further words. Really, she could just kiss that big ox for the effort of covering for her, even if it did require a bit of embellishment. Hurriedly jamming some necessities into a satchel, she grabbed her good wool coat and locked everything else into her trunk until she returned.

"You're such a large target, Timothy, you're lucky I didn't shoot you by mistake."

Her dry sass earned another roar of merriment that lingered as she moved to push back the infernal bowler hat and kiss his forehead. Slinging a casual arm around her waist, he grinned up at her from the bench he was sitting on. "So whatcha been up too while those itsy-bitsy papercuts on your shoulder healed up?"

"You're an ass, Dum-Dum."

She had forgotten how much these boys laughed and how much she enjoyed it.

"Besides keeping track of you and the other boys traipsing all over Europe? Merely pouring over endless little dots and dashes I'm afraid. The endless thrills of a being cryptanalyst."

Of course that's when Phillips came walking in, his serious face creasing further as one eyebrow cocked up. "Should I tell the GC&CS no next time?"

"Goodness no, Colonel. If I haven't these apes to show up, I need my entertainments elsewhere."

Even Phillips smiled faintly at that, not bothering to try and speak over the amusement and merely handing over a thin folder with a significant look Peggy knew she would be analyzing when not distracted. Which she was looking forward to be quite far gone, her dark gaze slipping over to her stupidly grinning lover.

"You bring her back in one damn piece this time!" Phillips got in the last word as he strode back out.


	17. Chapter 17

With a signed chit for a full thirty-six hours of furlough, Peggy was more than happy to bail out into the liquid sunshine of London flirting with spring.

That she was boxed in by the Howling Commandos tightly enough that she could tuck herself against Steve's left arm and fondle his fingers was merely a bonus. One of the boys had snatched away her satchel, but with her shoulders sore all the time, Peggy had let them get away with it. She'd kept a tube of lipstick in a pocket though, in hopes and expectations of…

"Over there? Okay, just give us a few minutes, willya?"

Ignoring the playful jeering of the other Commandos, Steve tugged Peggy to an alley for a moment. When he turned, prepared to apologize, he needn't have bothered, her good hand tugging at his neck. They fell into each other as though starved, a clash of lips and teeth and tongues and grasping hands.

"Love you," Steve murmured brokenly, "so glad you're really safe."

"Likewise, darling. What a lovely surprise this is, to hold you again."

They kissed and cuddled and murmured adoration for a bit before Steve wiped the red from his mouth and Peggy fixed it on hers so they could rejoin the others. It turned out 'over there' was an actual restaurant that Peggy had never bothered to patronage due to her pragmatic nature. This evening was for celebrating the return of the people she considered her family though and now was the perfect time to indulge as best they could.

It turned out that the Howling Commandos could wreak a decent amount of havoc when they put their minds to it. The food was excellent, considering the rationing, but the boys were still hungry, so they'd gone searching for more even as dusk gathered. Rather than get themselves stuck in the blackout night of wartime London and the possibility of an air raid, the group left off the hunt to track down their hotel. Peggy was impressed at the stuffy architecture of the Imperial Lion and hoped they knew what was headed their way.

Turned out the hotel had a private dining room they were more than happy to shove the soldiers into. The boys preened at the hero's treatment but Peggy suspected it was more to keep them away from the more genteel patrons that might visit. Not that she minded in the slightest, as the privacy allowed her to happily snuggle into Steve's side, the heat of his body welcome, particularly on her sore shoulder. With a surprising collection of cash, the Commandos not only procured a second meal, but a decent selection of liquor as well. Peggy demurred from more than a half-pint of the only tolerable ale in the selection, complaining that alcohol had tasted off to her since the shooting and blaming the medications. Not so the others, even Steve gamely playing along, despite the stuff doing absolutely nothing to him. 

It grew late and the city stayed quiet and eventually the boisterous Commandos poured out into the hotel proper and managed to accost the piano player before he could slip away for the night. It was hard to say no to a fistful of bills waved in his face and he finally sat at the big instrument to entertain the loud gang of them for a bit. There was an edge of desperate and relieved jocularity to the celebration, of souls who looked death in the eye too often, too long, and needed to just exist for a bit.

All of London understood that far too well.

The madness climaxed with a rousing and slightly drunkenly garbled rendition of 'Peg O My Heart' that Peggy finally had to laughingly berate them for. "You great, ruddy twits! I haven't a drop of Irish in me!"

"Please, he's as fresh-faced Irish as a leprechaun, just like his mama," Bucky snorted into his beer, his grin wicked. Even as the other Commandos howled in leering amusement, both Steve and Peggy blushed furiously at the innuendo.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This exchange, tucked amid story building and general squeeing, was too good not to share.
> 
> Me: these idiots are pure maple sugar. Sweet and savory.  
> ayrki: [laughs] and perfect on just about everything. :p  
> Me: AHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHA

Much later, a sated Peggy lay sprawled on a ridiculously decedent bed and its equally decedent sheets in a blissfully clean room with a private bath just steps away and basked in it. But she'd have been happy in a filthy foxhole because of the company.

Steve couldn't agree more. Except he was completely caught up in mapping out every curve and texture of his lover's back with an ardent hand and an adoring mouth. In need of sleep, Peggy nonetheless couldn't resist his touch, squirming with pleasure and ticklish abandon escaping in a loose giggle. When Steve licked a wide stripe across the small of her back, she burst out into laughter and squirmed away, nearly falling off the bed, saved by a strong arm dragging her back into his heavy body.

"Where're you goin'?" Steve growled playfully, perfectly happy to let her roll over so that he could tuck his body along Peggy's side and transfer his attentions to the jut of collarbones and her elegant throat. She gave him an adoringly exasperated look at the hardening shaft of his cock along her hip.

"Darling, you've quite worn me out."

"Ignore Johnson, I'm quite happy with cuddles."

That only made Peggy laugh harder and hug his disheveled blonde head to her. "As am I."

Part of her was happily exhausted, yearning for peaceful sleep that had been eluding her for weeks. To lonely, too much healing, too much war in her brain and bones, all of it soothed for the moment with her lover's presence and gentle touch. All the better because she knew that she brought him the same succor. It was both exhilarating and humbling, to be that for someone else.

"Did the colonel think you sounded tired and needed a little R&R?"

Steve left off his worshipful adoration of her silky skin to prop his chin on her sternum and grin. "Yeah, how did you know?"

"I didn't. Just an educated guess."

Equally as adoring in her touches, Peggy stroked his brow and cheeks and the silky, pale hair she'd been gleefully wrecking throughout the evening. 

"You like doing that. Not that I have any complaints."

Steve quickly added the second comment when he felt her soft touches falter self-consciously, and was grateful he'd found the right thing to say when she began stroking him again. "Your face is the thing that changed the least. Your eyes not at all. I can still look at you and see that odd, intriguing little man who I confess I may have been a bit mad about from the start."

"Mutual." 

Sliding himself up Peggy's body, Steve kissed her adoringly for a good while before propping himself up on his elbows.

"I was fascinated by you from the start, you crazy dame. So fearless and dynamic! Never woulda thought in a million years someone like you woulda been interested, but somehow, you make me believe you woulda been just that, interested, even if I hadn't become this big ox."

"Yes," Peggy murmured, pulling him down so they could get lost in one another again.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is some of my favorite dialog with these two and I never, ever tire of sassy Peggy!

"Woman, you are some kind of brute," Steve marveled as he examined the ragged crescents of teeth marks in his neck. It was no surprise that Peggy only chuckled throatily, a raw, lusty sound.

"It's hardly my fault that you insist upon swatting me like some errant child."

Grinning wryly, Steve turned and leaned against the sink to watch his lover laze in the bath. "Y'know, it's a good thing I don't buy this 'snooty Englishwoman' shit outta you."

Her peal of laughter warmed his heart and soul.

Tossing his clothes into a pile beside the tub, Steve sat down so that he could trail an arm into the water, stroking Peggy's skin while they talked quietly, easily. They agreed to spend a bit of time wandering London where it was possible amid the wreckage, made casual-sounding plans to one day wander New York together. Eventually, Peggy dragged herself from the decadence of the bath, shooing away Steve's playful groping so that he could grab a shower. No matter that his cleaning up was quick, Steve still found Peggy sheathed in skivvies and a slip and she only let him nibble and kiss at her neck for a moment before shooing him away again. Though he didn't miss how she watched him, naked save a towel, and then not even that as he tossed the wet terrycloth onto the bed and dug into his bag for his own skivvies. He only got halfway done before Steve found himself mesmerized with watching his lover put on makeup. Sure, he'd watched her fix her lipstick before, but this was different. This was subtle layers of powder, a touch of rouge, a bit of dark line at the edges of her rich eyes.

"You look positively fascinated, my love."

Thrilled with the loving endearment, Steve grinned like a lovesick fool and made a goofy, all-encompassing gesture. "I just never saw the whole… process, that's all. Even on the stupid USO tour, I only saw bits and pieces."

Quickly and expertly slicking on the rich crimson lipstick she so favored, Peggy turned away from the mirror and smiled at him, once more halting his own getting ready. "The makeup is just another form of armor. Albeit a more attractive one."

With their chuckling warming the room, the lovers quickly dressed, the layers of olive and khaki transforming them.

"Oh, hang on!" Steve suddenly leapt over to his bag and groped though it, coming up with a crinkling package. "I almost forgot that I brought you a few gifts."

"Oh, you sweet thing, you found me nylons!"

"Yup. Hey, I traveled with chorus girls for far too long. I learned. Besides, now if I tear 'em off you later, it'll give me an excuse to track down a few more."

Peggy, already in the process of getting into the unexpected luxury, shot him an exasperated and utterly aroused look. Which Steve smugly ignored, altogether pleased with himself as he knotted his tie.

"Only 'if', darling?"

Peggy always did enjoy getting in the last word.


	20. Chapter 20

By the time evening fell again, Peggy had been completely caught up in the jarring normalcy of just another day underground with the SSR. Aside from some murmured gossip here and there, one would never even know Captain America and the Howling Commandos were on the island, much less in London. The moment they'd arrived, Steve had been swept away to doubtlessly be paraded about and sit through endless meetings. She didn't envy him one bit.

At last though, a ripple of excitement brought her gaze around to see that her lover had finally returned, looking surprisingly exhausted. A practiced glare sent the underlings scurrying away, even as Peggy knew it would feed the rumor mill, and she smiled warmly at Steve. Oh what a thrill it gave her to see that adoring and carnal gleam in his eye.

"You look to have had a long day, Captain. Would you care to join me for a meal?"

"I ate," he bit off shortly and seemed startled at his irritated tone, softening instantly. "But, yes, I'd love to join you."

It was easy sometimes, to forget that aggressive temper he generally kept close tabs on, but Peggy understood all too well. "Excellent, just give me a moment?"

He nodded and retreated to a shadowy corner for as much anonymity as he could manage. It was strange, Steve's presence there, in the shadows. Peggy was hyper-aware of the weight of his gaze, like a touch on her skin, leaving her both rattled and focused. Thankfully, she was able to wrap up what she was doing relatively quickly and delegate out the remaining tasks before gesturing for Steve to join her. Neither spoke as they retreated out to the city beyond and Steve could scrub frustrated hands over his face.

"You up for a walk?"

"Certainly. Lead the way."

Only steps away from the entrance to the London deep tunnels, Peggy threw caution to the wind and linked her arm through Steve's. It was both exhilarating and disheartening how he startled at the contact, but instantly relaxed and smiled small, but heartfelt. They walked like that for a bit before Steve suddenly went subtly rigid, setting off every warrior instinct in Peggy. 

"Tail," he said shortly and they were moving together now, not as lovers, but comrade in arms. In an instant, Peggy spotted a grocer still open in the gathering dusk and Steve followed her movement without a moment's hesitation. A quick 'hush' gesture had the fellow in the store snapping his mouth shut and ducking down behind the counter. Few in London would argue with clearly competent soldiers in full uniform.

"I think it's probably just a damn reporter," Steve murmured as he peeked around the edge of the already-drawn blackout curtains once the interior lights had been shut off. "But, frankly, I want to see those idiots about as much as I do Hydra."

Peggy chuckled in agreement with his gallows humor and kept a solid grip on her Walther pistol.


	21. Chapter 21

In the end there wasn't much choice but to confront the pair of men that came sniffing around the grocer's door. While Steve wasn't thrilled with the idea of Peggy doing so on her own, one of the things he had always admired about her was how she could take care of herself and seemingly anything that came her way.

The flashbulb of the camera would normally have gotten the idiot flattened with Peggy's fist in his face, but this time she was treated to the amusing spectacle of the pair of reporters scruffed like errant schoolboys by a very annoyed Captain America. He spoke rudely over the pushier of the two, using words like 'inappropriate' and 'salacious' and 'nonsense'. When Steve took the camera, the idiots actually had the nerve to look to Peggy as though for help. She fought down the urge to pummel the one not intelligent enough to blanch at her flat, dangerous stare. 

Somehow procuring their names, Steve informed them that they would get their camera back once the military was certain there was nothing sensitive contained within, but the pushier of the two wouldn't let up. The two soldiers simply stared him down, ignoring his barrage of questions and insulations and the increasingly anxious tugs of his companion, who desperately wanted to be anywhere else. When the rest of the Howling Commandos materialized in a great, glowering wall of pure intimidation, even the moron realized that he needed to be elsewhere.

"Wankers," Peggy commented quietly once they'd finally been shooed away. "I believe I've quite lost my appetite."

"Aww, c'mon, Peggy," Dugan encouraged with a puppyish look on his bristly face. "Let us entertain you for a bit before we let you loose on Rogers again."

Peggy refrained from embarrassing herself again with a blush by punching Dugan in the arm hard enough to make him cringe and rub the spot. Steve had no such luck and was ribbed unmercifully while the whole pack of them wandered into darkening London. 

They found a relatively empty place to invade, one of the seemingly endless so-called 'British Restaurants' that had popped up to ensure the population were adequately fed. The food wasn't fancy, but it was cheap and the couple of families inside were typical of Londoners blitzed from their homes, hollow-eyed and skittish. It prompted several of the Commandos to make funny faces at them until the children smiled, even for just for a moment. Not at all surprising to Peggy, the youngsters' smiles prompted the giant boys of her unit to start begging for The Story. In fact, she had been rather looking forward to it. Raising her voice just a bit hushed the boys down and ensured that several of the curious children who'd crept closer, could hear her words.

"Oh, if I must. When I was a child, my father spoke endlessly of the Great Whirlwind of twenty," her voice dropped into an incoherent mumble over the non-existent exact year. As expected, it made her audience smile and gave her a moment to adapt to the children's ears. "A huge gusty wind that whipped itself into a monstrous funnel shape of a storm!" The children gasped in concert with a few of the Commandos-- to encourage them of course-- but there was no real fear. One of the three boys even spoke up tentatively.

"Miss, didja mean one of them tornados? Like we see in the picture books? In America?"

"Exactly right, young man."

"There aren't tornados in England," scoffed a girl not quite at puberty, but close.

"Well, my father always was a bit of a showman, so let's see if I can't get a laugh out of you, yes?"

There wasn't any real censure in Peggy's tone, but the children subsided and she picked the thread of the tale up.

"It was such a pretty day too. The sun was out and the flowers were beginning to unfurl, the little brook babbled over the rocks and the animals called out in the fields. Then suddenly the skies turned dark and the rain began to fall and the clouds started to twist into a spiral. Then came the funnel and it dropped down and roared up the peaceful little valley, through the early spring grass and swept up every little black beetle there. It whirled them up into the clouds and soaked them all with rain until they became so waterlogged that finally they came crashing down to the streets of London herself."

There was a moment of breathless silence as the audience waited for Peggy to finish, but she only smiled enigmatically. And then Bucky burst into laughter and pointed at her with a wild grin.

"The taxis! They got all swelled wit' rain and became the taxis!"

Peggy pointed back at him, grin equally as wild. "Got it in one."

The whole restaurant startled and stared at the cacophony of noise from the audience and Peggy reveled in the children's smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so, Peggy's 'Tornado if 20 mumble, mumble' becomes a running gag. Trust me, it will come 'round again... and again...


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peggy has her own way of saying 'I love you'.

"That was sweet of you."

"I assume you mean entertaining the children, and not my prank on Timothy?"

Despite loyalty to his comrades, Steve had to laugh and tuck Peggy closer to his side. After dinner, the Commandos had tracked down a pub to invade and Dugan had stupidly fallen asleep. Quietly shooing away the local hussy who'd been hanging out in the big man's lap, Peggy had taken her place, delicately drawing dots and dashes across his cheekbones for later shock and amusement. There was nothing that could beat 'fuck off' written in Morse Code across one of their own's face and the ensuing drunken hilarity had provided an escape for the lovers. Peggy was fairly certain that Steve hadn't ripped anything getting her bare-- or vice versa-- but that worry was the last thing on her mind at the moment. For now she was blissfully content, warmed and sated with Steve's loving and the gift of just being together. 

Steve couldn't agree more. Just having her close made him feel calm and focused, as though he could take on the world. 

"Yes, I meant the kids, ya smart aleck."

Twisting his head to try and see her expression, Steve drank in the smirk on her lips, nearly bared of her characteristic red by his kisses. 

"As insanely gorgeous and irresistible as you are all dolled up, Doll," Steve teased and Peggy left off her idly tracing small caresses over his heart to slap his skin and smile. "I like mussing you up til you're bare too." 

"Ruin all my hard work."

The mock drama in her tone made Steve chuckle, shifting to cup his hand around her scars, cradling her whole arm along his as he leaned over to kiss her sweetly… and it suddenly clicked. For a moment he stilled, Peggy's body doing the same in instinctual echo, but he went back to kissing her and hoped she would do it again. Sure enough, her fingers once more began playing out their tender tattoo against his skin.

.. / .-.. --- ...- . / -.-- --- ..-

"I love you too," he murmured adoringly, shifting his cradling hand so he could tap out the letters against the point of her shoulder only inches from her healing wounds. To his enormous amusement, his beloved, unflappable Peggy, blushed like a schoolgirl and hid her face in his neck.

"So embarrassing."

"What? It's sweet."

"I am not sweet, Steven Grant Rogers."

"Nope, not in the slightest. Course, when I get you all hot and bothered, you're a lousy liar."

In demonstration, Steve leaned away only far enough to stoke over her skin, cupping a breast to rub his thumb over a stiffening nipple. Attuned to the erotic dance of their bodies, Peggy moaned softly, that tell-tale pitch creeping in around the edges.

"You hardly fight fair."

"No ma'am, that I don't."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Morse Code thing was all Ayrki and I loved it so much, it became a part of this tale.


	23. Chapter 23

Hand splayed over Peggy's misleadingly soft belly, Steve caressed the scoop of one hip, the fringe of her dark pubes. It was getting late now, and Peggy was clearly tired, but he couldn't seem to leave her alone. Far from minding, she drank up his touch and did plenty of her own caressing.

"D'ya think Phillips knows about us?"

The abrupt question was so completely unexpected that Peggy had to laugh.

"I can't imagine he doesn't, even as the thought makes me cringe."

"Man, when I heard his voice at your tent that first time? Yikes."

"That makes two of us, darling."

Sleep was encroaching around the edges of Peggy's mind-- she seemed to be tired all the time since the shooting-- when Steve suddenly spoke again, his voice low and intimate.

"Have you been doin' that Morse Code all along and I just missed it?"

"No," she breathed out softly, distracted by his adoring touch. "Just this visit. It wasn't even conscious at first. I had a trainee at Bletchley Park recently and the poor fool would get himself so worked up that he would forget things. He's perfect for the work, despite a nervous disposition and I didn't want him to wash out. So I told him to tap out the code on his thigh under the table. He has absolutely the wrong personality for field work, so I deemed it a harmless enough tic. To remind him, I started doing the same, my hand inside the sling where I'd taken to tucking in papers since it was a handy pocket of sorts. Besides, it was good muscular exercise for the arm. It's become a habit I need to unlearn, clearly."

"Shame. I like it."

Awake again, Peggy tugged gently at the blonde locks until she could look into his pale eyes, dark in the tiny nightlight. "You do?"

"Sure. It's like you're drawing love right into my skin."

For a moment, Peggy only watched Steve's relaxed, adoring expression. There was a million things she could say to him, sappy declarations of love and forever, but the words stuck in her throat.

"Then I won't stop, darling," she managed to whisper past the lump of emotion, pleased with his kisses that gave her a moment to regain some composure and once more trace the dots and dashes of love on his skin.

"Just don't draw it on me for real," Steve murmured against the softness of her lips, his curling into a smile.

"Pardon?"

"Then Phillips will know for sure."

As always, their laughter was the best part of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are at the end. 
> 
> These two are amazing to write for and I couldn't be more delighted with how this tale is going so far. Thank you for reading and onward to the next part!


End file.
